


Waiting for Atlantis

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Bonding, Episode: s01e01 Rising, Gen, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Spurious due South Reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-12
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2020-01-12 03:06:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18437735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: John has given up on finding a guide...maybe he'll have better luck in the next galaxy.





	Waiting for Atlantis

**Author's Note:**

> Grateful thanks to cheerleader, beta, and braintwin em-kellesvig (Mischief).

[](http://www.squidge.org/~esteefee/imgs/waiting.png)

"There are no unbonded guides leaving on the Expedition," Dr. Lam said to John apologetically. "I'm sorry, Major Sheppard, but we weren't anticipating an unbonded sentinel joining at this late date."

"Not a problem," John said through his teeth. "Don't worry about it."

"But there's a good chance you won't be able to establish a return trip—"

"Seriously, Doc, it's fine. Hey, maybe my chances will be better in a new galaxy," he said lightly, ignoring her grimace.

She didn't bug him further and signed off on his evaluation then handed him his duplicate copy. He stuffed it in his kit bag next to his dental records and shiny new gear then trotted off to his quarters in the SGC. The place was a nightmare of heavy boots echoing along concrete corridors and fifty-year-old grime only partially cleaned by stinky industrial solvents. 

He missed McMurdo and the clean scent of snow and the numbing cold.

Dropping off his gear, he went to the next appointment on his list and met with First Sergeant Stackhouse to discuss the chain of command. Stackhouse was also his new CO's guide, which meant John had to walk a careful line and couldn't buddy up to the guy like he would normally.

Stackhouse gave him the lowdown on how John would fit in—not at all, apparently, since he was odd man out with no one below him and just Sumner then Weir on top. Stackhouse explained how the Expedition Charter had integrated the international military regulations on sentinel and guide governing policies, which were a little more convoluted than the US'. 

"Basically," Stackhouse said, "a sentinel who detects a risk bumps it up the chain first and, if he or she gets overruled, can take their guide and go outside the chain of command to address it. But you don't want to get a rep for that sort of thing."

"Right." John had to hide his bitterness, thinking of Holland. "What about an unbonded Sentinel?"

"Oh, that’s right—you're unbonded, huh?" 

"Yep."

Stackhouse looked away. "I guess you could hop the chain. I'm not sure what would happen, though."

"Well, let's hope it doesn't come up." 

:::

Next was a visit to the armory, plenty of fun, and finally John was supposed to visit the science guys in the labs for some reason. Probably had something to do with Mr. Talky and his weird throne. He'd kept John in that torture device for going on seven hours before John cried uncle and got the hell out of there. His back ached for the whole day afterward.

"Yo," John said, tapping on the doorway. "Anybody home?"

"Oh, Major. Thank God," the fuzzy-haired scientist said. "Prosím, come in. I am Radek Zelenka." He nodded but didn’t offer a hand. "Rodney has been driving me mad with his complaining. 'Where is the ATA? What is taking him so damn long?'"

"Yeah, what were you doing, anyway? I thought it was just some paperwork," Mr. Talky said, scowling at John.

"Right." John crossed his arms and leaned against the door. "Obviously, you've never done Air Force inprocessing before."

"Obviously not. You wouldn't catch me dead in military service."

John bit back his reply but not his smirk.

"Oh, whatever. You know, just because I'm a sentinel doesn't mean I have to be a cop or a fireman or whatever infantile fantasies Hollywood comes up with. An agricultural scientist can save more lives developing a disease resistant strain with better crop yield than a thousand of your military sentinels!" 

"What Dr. McKay means to say," Zelenka said, "is we all find our paths as appropriate."

"Humph." 

John didn't miss the fond glance Zelenka gave McKay at his outburst, or the way McKay unconsciously reached back and touched Zelenka's arm as if making sure he was there. Zelenka and McKay were bonded, guide and sentinel. John had met more pairings since coming to the SGC than in his entirely military career, and the military already attracted sentinels and guides like a honey trap. Obviously, there was something about the SGC that drew scientist pairs as well. John could tell being part of the Expedition would hit him where it hurt the most, where he'd ached with the cold ever since he and Nancy discovered they weren't compatible when John came online.

"So, what do you need? Because I have to check in with optometric services, next."

"But I just got you," McKay whined. 

"And you've got me till," John consulted his chronometer, "sixteen hundred. So, you'd better step it up."

With that, McKay and Zelenka dragged him away and down some long, cool corridors and into what appeared to be a missile silo. Except at the bottom wasn't a missile, but a queer, boxy craft of some kind. As soon as John was ten feet away, he could hear it humming like his mom used to.

Weird. 

"Do you hear that?" John asked McKay, who stared at him like hamsters had gotten into his hard drive.

"No. But O'Neill did say the ship created a mental connection of some kind," McKay said, then clutched his head suddenly. "Ow!" 

Zelenka began to fuss. "Are you communing with the gate ship, or did you just forget to take your afternoon medication?"

McKay pouted. "My stomach was a little queasy, so I didn't want to."

"So, now your head is bad and you are even more queasy." Zelenka tsked. "I will go fetch you a banana and some anti-nausea medication to go with your afternoon meds." He petted McKay's arm. "You will take them, miláčku. No arguing."

"Okay, okay." McKay leaned in briefly so their heads touched and then Zelenka took off.

John tried to remember the last time someone gave a good goddamn about him having a simple headache and drew a perfect blank. He touched the alien spaceship and thought, _C'mon, you fucker. Do some magic for me._

The damned thing hummed into life, the back of it easing down to reveal a ramp. He shared a shocked look with McKay.

"I guess you're not so useless after all," said McKay, who shoved him aside, headache apparently forgotten, to charge up the ramp. 

John shelved his irritation in favor of following the tingle at the back of his skull. It was a soft and temping glow. Except he couldn't quite get to it; something was in the way. 

"Come on, let's get to work," McKay called, and John stepped into the craft, which lit up inside, guiding him to the pilot seat. The ship seemed to be whispering to him, offering him things, showing him what it could do, and in the back of his head was that spot, not quite there, not quite close enough, like a hand he couldn't reach, a thought he couldn't think. It was annoying as fuck, and he found himself breathing a little too hard, trying, until he grabbed the controls. Then the little ship took over his thoughts. It wanted so badly to fly. That was its whole purpose. Keeping it grounded was a crime. 

"Sheppard. Sheppard. Major! We don't have authorization to fly the gate ship at this time!" McKay's voice broke in, a panicked babble, and John set the little craft back down with a sigh.

"Just feeling her out." He raised his eyes and right in front of them a display popped up with stats—internal temperature, air pressure, gravity, little graphs with symbols he didn't recognize but understood all the same. Zelenka had returned, and he and McKay were making happy noises and arguing about conversion rates and power fluctuations, but John let his mind go back to that cold spot. He could trace it now. He could feel where it connected to the little ship, and where it dead-ended uselessly. A cut-off limb. Just like John.

He looked at his chronometer. "I'm out of here, guys."

"What? No! You can't!"

"I have to get my vision checked, then it's time for grub." John hopped out of the chair. "And I'm guessing the general would want me to close up shop, here."

McKay let out a groan of utter dismay. It sounded about as painful as John's back had felt after seven hours in that alien throne of his, so with a secret grin, John shuffled the two complaining scientists out of the little spacecraft and locked it up tight before trotting off to his next appointment.

:::

"Extraordinary," Dr. Malik said as John rattled off the numbers and letters on the microprinted sheet at twenty feet. 

"Pretty standard for a sentinel, right?"

"I would say within the 90th percentile, yes. But you're guideless." Malik backpedaled at John's expression. "Not that there's anything wrong with that."

"Of course not." John rolled his eyes.

"Any headaches? Nausea?"

"The usual."

"How usual is the usual?"

"I deal."

Malik sighed and took off his glasses, giving John a somber look. "Off the record, how do you medicate when your vision spikes?"

John hesitated. But it was nothing they could nail him with, anyway. "Tylenol is the only thing I don't react to, so I take it when things get bad. I have a timer on the bottle, so never more than a thousand milligrams in a 24-hour period."

"And when it's worse?"

John shrugged. "Ice pack. Eye mask and ear plugs. It's fine."

"Fine? Look, Sheppard—I can give you migraine medications that are proven to help with sentinel syndrome. Much better than ice packs and eye masks. It's not like bonded sentinels don't have the same issues."

"Yeah, but it will still appear on my record I can't cut it solo and there goes my flight status. No thanks, Doc."

Malik sighed again and looked away. "Hmm, well, I hear you'll be heading to another galaxy in a few days with no supply-line. It's too bad—I just had these pharma reps drop me a whole stash of samples that are proven to work on syndrome headaches. Just a whole stack of them, right over there, none of which are recorded as inventory." He flicked his hand toward a side table. Sure enough, it was loaded with little cardboard packages. "Oh, that's my phone. Excuse me a moment; I'll be right back."

John stared in disbelief as Malik sauntered out the door of the little office. And then John jumped into action and stuffed a bunch of handfuls of the sample packets into his kit bag. At least enough to last him a couple of months of bad headaches, if the stuff worked. Christ, let it work.

By the time Malik came back in, John was back on the gurney playing with his phone and the pile was significantly lower. Malik nodded amiably and handed him his copy of the paperwork.

"Your flight status is unchanged. This completes your medical evals. Good luck over there, Sheppard."

"Thanks, Doc," John said, his voice heavy with gratitude. Malik's brown face crinkled in a smile. 

"Don't mention it."

John didn't plan to, but he'd definitely remember the kindness.

:::

* * *

John found himself seriously grateful to Doctor Malik as the SGC began to fill up with personnel for the big trip. With each new servicemember, the noise increased fourfold, and when the smells of sweaty marines, gym socks, and Tiger Balm got overwhelming, he found himself in his quarters with his head stuffed under two pillows and one of the doc's samples melting on his tongue.

He hoped Atlantis was real. And he hoped it was a damned sight quieter and smelled better than a battalion of marines living in close quarters. 

But the SGC wasn't all bad. McKay and Zelenka were pretty hilarious and, once they got over treating him like a remote control, fun to hang out with. Another guide/sentinel pairing, Aiden Ford and Miko Kusanagi, were tasked with filling him in on SGC's history and offworld mission records, although their sessions turned into straight gossip more often than not. 

John learned a hell of a lot more about General and Sentinel O'Neill's sex life than he really wanted. Also, he could have lived out his whole life never learning about how the Goa'uld reproduced, thanks a lot. 

"Of course, the Air Force has a clause in the fraternization rules for pair bonds, so he and Colonel Carter could bond," Miko said. "But they weren't expecting Ascension to change Dr. Jackson's genetic makeup. He presented signs of also being the general's guide soon afterward." 

Miko had a really cute giggle, and Aiden laughed in response. John rubbed his sternum and the ache there.

"So, they ended up a trio?"

"Yes! The Air Force had to make another exception." Miko giggled again, and Aiden grinned adoringly. 

Maybe, with all the sentinels and guides that were drawn to the SGC, it wasn't too late after all. John let himself feel tiny glimmers of hope for the first time since he could remember. 

:::

Before John could believe it, he was standing in a room full of sweaty scientists and macho marines all listening to Dr. Weir rallying the troops in front of a big metal ring. Dr. Weir's speech wasn't bad—a little heavy on the bombast, but obviously sincere. 

McKay and Zelenka crowded up behind him with their backpacks and rolling cases.

"I can't believe you brought a wooden pigeon as your personal item," McKay said.

"You're one to talk." Zelenka scoffed. "Or did you really need a framed copy of your first-place award in the International Science and Engineering Fair? From middle school," he added devastatingly.

"It was a big deal!"

"Yes, I know. You made a nuclear bomb. Hip hooray. We've only known how since 1945."

John laughed silently.

"Sheppard, watch our stuff. We have to go connect the ZPM." 

"I'll take care of your precious carry-ons." 

While John was waiting, Sumner came up next to him and gave him some guff about how he was a lowly solo and to remember who was giving the orders. John smirked and said, "That would be Dr. Weir, right?" It would all be pretty hilarious if John's heart weren't triple-timing it. After all the talk, this was really it—he would just step up that ramp and walk onto a different planet in a whole other galaxy.

Far out.

Dr. Weir finally gave the command to the folks up in the booth, and the ring started dialing like an old rotary phone. Then the ring burst with a splash of blue and John wobbled and nearly went down. 

Aiden, who'd appeared on his other side, grabbed him by the arm, saying, "Yeah, it hit Miko like that the first time, too."

"What?" John couldn't think around the burst of heat at the back of his mind, powerful and secure, a connection like nothing he'd ever felt. "That's the wormhole?" he gasped.

"Yup. Pretty cool, huh? Hurts like hell when you step through," he added, and John shot him a wary look.

McKay and Zelenka reappeared, and they all waited while the MALP checked to see if there was any atmosphere, but John could have told them there was—he could feel the sensation of something waiting on the other side, something safe, although he knew better than to say anything. But the burn in his mind had steadied to a glow of warmth. 

"You ready?" Aiden said as they approached the ring.

"You first," John said, and Aiden smirked at him and escorted his sentinel ahead and up to the gate with their stuff. All John had was the pack on his back. For personal items, he had a videotape, a poster, and a flannel shirt that helped when he was spiking.

He stepped through the gate and into darkness. But then light burst behind his eyes, and he grabbed his head. John heard a curse behind him and McKay and Zelenka grabbed his arms and dragged him away from the gate.

"Major, this is not the best place to get gatesick." 

"I'm not—" John heard a panicked wailing start, except somehow it was in his mind, not his ears. "It's…it's the city. It's in my mind." 

"The city? Please," McKay scoffed. 

"No, I mean, I can hear something. Like with the jumper. There's an alarm going off." This was crazy. It was flashing behind his eyes, triggering a righteous headache. "Don't you hear it?"

"I don't hear anything but a bunch of marines getting their dirty fingers on my technology," McKay said, and shoved past John, Zelenka giving John an apologetic glance in their wake.

"Wait! McKay!" Damn it. 

"Teams one and two, secure the immediate area," Sumner radioed. 

John tried to catch up to McKay, following him up some stairs that immediately lit up under John's feet. 

"Who's doing that?" John heard Dr. Weir say, and his head throbbed harder with the alarm as blocky consoles powered up around him.

"Fuck," John muttered. "It's the power. McKay!" he yelled. "It's the power! It's setting off the alarm. We're losing power."

McKay stopped and turned. "What are you talking about?" 

John heard Weir telling O'Neill to cut power to the gate. God, they'd be trapped. But it wasn't like O'Neill could stage a rescue from the Milky Way. They were screwed either way.

John grabbed the sleeve of McKay's jacket, ignoring Zelenka's glare. "McKay. The power in the city is dropping. We have to shut down everything we don't need." God, the city was panicking. A painful tremor hit John's spine. It felt like the whole city was shaking around them, but nothing moved. "The city needs every bit of power for the—"

"Major, where are you getting this information?" Zelenka said, sounding anxious. Finally, someone was listening.

"I told you—it's in my head. There's an alarm going off, like—'Critical entropy approaching!'" The words came out of his mouth as if someone else was speaking them, and his head pulsed alarmingly. "It's…the power levels are dropping. We need to get everyone back here."

"I don't think—" McKay made a face at the marines sweeping the area on Sumner's orders, and John's stomach dropped. He'd never convince them. Never. He was a sentinel without a guide. Useless. 

"Rodney, these consoles have power. Perhaps we can find some indicator," Zelenka said, and McKay snapped his fingers.

"Unpack my tablet. Maybe the consoles will have the same interface we used with the gate ship."

The two of them ran up the rest of the stairs, John following behind and dropping his pack next to a glowing column. The two scientists muttered at each other as they pulled the top covers off the nearest console and started yanking things out of their bags. Zelenka crawled underneath and passed up cables while McKay hammered directions at him from above.

They were an amazing team. John's envy echoed with the pulse in his head. 

"What's going on here?" Sumner said, startling the hell out of John. 

"Well, sir—seems we might have a situation."

"What kind of situation, and why wasn't I informed?"

"The power is dropping rapidly around the city, and that might be a real problem for us. Especially since—"

"Oh, no. Oh, no-no-no, this is not good," McKay said, and Zelenka chimed in with a curse in Czech.

"What is it? Sitrep," Sumner barked.

"Power levels _are_ dropping, which is really bad, like, super bad, because there's only one ZPM left with a charge, and it's all that's keeping the shield up."

"Shield? What shield?"

"The shield that's holding back the ocean," John said, and Sumner glared at him.

"How do you know about that? I was just informing Elizabeth about it."

"The city is…flashing images at me, sir. And a failsafe alarm. In fact, we need to pull everyone back here ASAP, because the city is going to…oh, wow. Okay. Um…"

"I think I see what's triggered the alarm…" Rodney muttered.

"What? What in blazes are you talking about now?" Sumner swung around and had all of them in his sights now. 

John straightened his shoulders. "The city is going to engage the failsafe mechanism and rise to the surface. We need everyone to secure to posts or they're in for a rough ride."

"Oh, come on! The sunken city of Atlantis is going to somehow float to the surface?"

"Please, Colonel," Radek said. "Power levels are plummeting—that is in no doubt. And without the shield, we will drown."

"Pull your men back," Rodney said in agreement. "The shield has already failed in these areas, here and here." He pointed at a map on his tablet.

"Fine." Sumner clicked his radio. "All security teams, fall back to the gate room. Everyone, secure your gear and brace yourselves."

"Thank you," Rodney said, and John gave him a grateful look.

"You just better hope you didn't make me look like an idiot," Sumner said, but there was a wry twitch to his lips John wasn't expecting.

"Thank you, sir," John said, and felt an echo of appreciation in his mind as the marines and other personnel returned to the gateroom. The alarm went percussive, giving short bursts, like a countdown, and then the city began to shake.

John dropped to his knees and covered his ears. The city was roaring around him, churning with the fury of a thousand waves and the pressure of ten tons of water being displaced. John's brain was on fire. But there was light, light gleaming and growing steadily brighter, and with it, he felt a piercing ray of freedom that wasn't quite his own.

"I'll be goddamned," Sumner said, and John looked up to see the sun cascading through a stained-glass window, the heavy smell of ocean salt permeating the air.

"Glory be," Rodney said, rising to his feet, Radek grinning beside him.

All around them, people were slowly standing with sounds of amazement, some with cries of pain and confusion. Sumner turned away and started conferring with Dr. Weir, who had made her way up the stairs to stare in wonder at the sunlight. 

"Get me Dr. Beckett," John heard Weir say. 

"Well, that was unusual," Rodney said, and Radek nodded. 

"It is amazing," Radek said. "It is almost suspicious how this failsafe engaged just as we arrived."

"No kidding," John said. He couldn't seem to get up. The alarm had shut off, but he still had a doozy of a headache. He tried to remember where he'd dropped his backpack. 

"Are you all right, Major?" 

"Yeah. Are we secure? Or is this place gonna sink again?"

"I'm curious about the answer to that question myself," Dr. Weir said. "Thanks for the heads up, by the way."

"Too soon to tell," Rodney said. "And things did happen pretty fast. I wish people would quiet down." Radek reached for his hand, and Rodney smiled gratefully. 

"What exactly did happen?"

"That's…" Rodney turned to stare at John, who ducked his head. Christ, he needed to find his pack before his head exploded. "Why don't you give us an hour to get a report ready, and we'll meet."

"All right. I'll notify Colonel Sumner. One hour, gentlemen..." Weir walked off with her assistant on her heels. 

"So," Rodney said. "What exactly did just happen?"

"I'm going to need a few," John said, and knee-walked over to his pack to grab a blister pack from the front pocket. He stuck a tab on his tongue and sucked on it fast, not willing to wait for it to dissolve. His head felt like someone had shoved an iron rod through his head and was banging on the end.

"Would you like some water?" Radek's voice was soft. John guessed he was used to dealing with cranky sentinels.

"Thanks, but I've got some here." It was good advice, though, so John took a couple of swigs from his canteen while he was at it, washing down the artificially sweet taste of the medicine.

He sat there with his eyes closed and let himself breathe. The tug in his mind had calmed down now that the crisis was over, but it was still there. He'd have to do something about it soon or he knew it would get worse. He was pretty sure what it was, but at the same time, he wasn't sure he hadn't lost touch with reality.

"Where are the power bars," he heard Rodney say. "I thought you said you put them in the side pocket."

"Please. They would get crushed, and then you would complain. You hate it when they are misshapen."

"It changes the taste," Rodney said petulantly, and John smothered a smile with another sip from his canteen.

"That is why I put them in the main pack in the top pocket, just under your second laptop, where they will be protected."

"Good thinking." 

John opened his eyes and saw Rodney scrounging for the power bars while Radek looked on indulgently. 

"Can I get one of those?" John asked, just to see Rodney's outrage.

"Excuse me? We're on a desert island, here! Who knows when we'll ever have a reliable source of…" Rodney turned the power bar over in his hand and read out loud, "'Chocolate covered cookies and cream' deliciousness again?"

"That sounds great. Toss it over."

Rodney stared at him. John stared back, his hand held out.

Radek said, "He did just assist us with a critical issue, Rodney."

Rodney sighed hugely and threw the bar to John. Overhand, and hard.

John caught it in front of his face with a grin. "Good arm." He tore it open and took a big bite. "This should help with the thumping in my skull." Shit. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, but already he was starting to trust these two. 

"Do you want some coffee? It helps with Rodney's sensory spikes." 

"Do we have hot water?" 

"Yes, of course! The ability to make coffee is my primary responsibility as Rodney's guide." 

Rodney snorted. "As if you don't drink more than half of it."

"So…" Radek looked down at his pack as he gathered items, John assumed for making coffee. "What happened, precisely?"

"You're gonna think I've lost my marbles." The pressure in John's head was unrelenting. 

"Oh, I think it's too late for that," McKay said, but there was humor in his tone. "Try us."

"Well, it started the second I came through the gate…"

:::

Weir asked them to convene in the large conference room off the gateroom. John trooped in feeling like he was going to his execution, despite Rodney and Radek's excitement at the prospect of what he'd told them.

"We're never going to convince them," he warned them.

Rodney flicked his hand. "Oh, please. We're already in a new galaxy. Everything we're doing is unprecedented." 

"If you think that's going to work on Sumner, you've got another thing coming."

Sumner, Stackhouse, and Weir were waiting, and Sumner impatiently waved away formalities and gestured for them to sit down across from them. Stackhouse took out a pad and paper and started to take notes. 

"Gentlemen, I trust you have an explanation ready for us," Dr. Weir said.

John gave Rodney a desperate look, and Rodney leaped into it. "As I mentioned briefly, the city is powered by a ZPM—well three, to be accurate—the last of which was nearing critical entropy when we entered the city." He held up his tablet, displaying a map of the city. "At that time, our exploration of the city stared to suck more power from the ZPM at a rate that wasn't sustainable, and we triggered the city's failsafe." Rodney raised his hand when Sumner opened his mouth, and John took over.

"We knew about the failsafe because when I came through the gate, I heard the city's alarm. Like the other Ancient tech I'd been tasked to work with at the SGC, Atlantis responds to my thoughts. But unlike the other Ancient tech…" John winced. "Atlantis is sentient."

Sumner stared at him, then looked over at Dr. Weir, who folded her hands in front of her and leaned forward eagerly. 

"Major Sheppard, are you saying Atlantis was speaking to you in words?"

"Not at this point, no. More like images and sounds. But she might be able to."

"She." Sumner dropped the word like a lead ball. "You're saying the city is a 'she'?"

"They gave her a feminine-sounding…she feels like…" John shook his head. "I don't know, sir."

"This is seriously ridiculous. The city we're supposed to live in—"

"If I may, Dr. Weir, Colonel," Radek butted in, and John turned toward him gratefully. "It's not unreasonable to assume that a city the Ancients built with such complexity should have an artificial intelligence running its systems, especially considering it has survived these many thousands of years underwater with no other caretaker."

"So, the Ancients left this intelligence behind to care for the city," Weir said, looking fascinated.

Sumner shot her a look. "But that means it's in control of the city, not us. Which makes it a security risk." They locked eyes for a moment before Weir reluctantly nodded. "So, how do we turn it off?"

John's head throbbed alarmingly.

"That's not all we had to report," Rodney said, bouncing in his seat a little. 

"Oh?" 

Sweat popped out along John's hairline. "Sir, I think Atlantis might be my guide."

Dead silence followed his announcement. Sumner pinched his nose. 

After too long, Rodney started babbling. "The phenomenon of non-human guides isn't utterly unprecedented. In 1984, a young Mountie recorded a half-wolf as his official guide of record in Canada. I remember reading about it." Sumner's glare cut him off.

"You think Atlantis is your guide." Sumner aimed the glare John's way, and he straightened.

"Yes, sir."

"But that's marvelous," Weir said. "How can you tell?"

John bit his lip. "She wants me to bond with her."

"You have to be—tell me I'm not the only one who thinks this is completely loony!" Sumner exploded, slapping his hands on the table. "How are you supposed to bond with an entire city? Stick your finger in a light socket?"

Radek snorted.

John clenched his teeth. "There's a chair, a lot like the one in Antarctica. I need to sit in it."

Sumner's face lost all traces of humor. "You mean the chair that controls those drone weapons?"

"Yes, sir."

"Not a freaking chance." Sumner sat back and folded his arms. "I get it now. I don’t know what this artificial intelligence is after, but I'm not letting it take control of the weapons chair."

"Oh, please," Rodney said. "The chair controls so much more than weapons."

John shot Rodney a warning look. 

"Also, excuse me, but there's no reason why the city, which already controls all of its own systems, couldn't launch any weapons it wants to," Rodney added hastily. "Honestly."

John shook his head in despair.

Fortunately, Dr. Weir stepped in. "Colonel, why are you assuming Atlantis is an inimical force?"

"It doesn't need me, that's for damn sure." John leaned his aching head in his hands. "But it sure would be nice to have a guide," he muttered.

"What was that, Sheppard?"

"Nothing, sir. Headache."

"Oh, jeepers, you have an owie. Take a goddamn Tylenol, Sheppard."

"Atlantis is my _guide_ , sir. I don't think you understand."

Sumner stared at him. "You really believe that. You think a city you never saw before today is your guide."

"I know it is. Right now, my head knows it."

"Well, that just takes the cake. So, now you're claiming I'm interfering with a bond?" Shaking his head, Sumner said regretfully, "I'm sorry, son, but I can't risk our safety on such an outlandish—ah!" He suddenly bent over and clutched his head. "What in the hell?" 

"Marshall!" Sergeant Stackhouse rushed to Sumner's side and grabbed him as he swayed in his chair. John saw a flash of images and wasn't sure what they meant, but an instant later Sumner raised his head as if nothing had happened. He looked over at John.

"Sir, what—"

"Your city just talked to me."

John raised his hands. "I didn't ask her to."

"I know," Sumner said. "She sent me a message."

Stackhouse leaned close, his eyebrows crashing together.

"It's all right, Jasper." Sumner touched his arm. "It's been ten thousand years since she had a sentinel. She's…more loyal than I realized." He took a breath and looked at Dr. Weir. "She doesn't appear to be a threat."

Dr. Weir smiled. "Then you have a go, Major."

John almost collapsed from the rush of relief.

Sumner added, "But I'm sending a squad of marines with you."

Somehow, John didn't care.

:::

Sumner wasn't kidding about the marines. Five of them, all bristling with P90s and K3s and relieving John of his sidearm before giving him a solemn escort while Radek and Rodney waited for direction from John, who showed them to the small room with the map.

The marines looked at him, then the sergeant said, "This a trick, Major?"

"Don't get paranoid. It's just a transporter. Like on Star Trek."

"Oh, my God. How cool is that?" Rodney dashed inside. "How do I? Oh, I see. Of course." The doors closed and John heard a distant yelp.

"Great. Now he is lost," Radek said. "Always he does this."

John tilted his head. "Actually, I think he went to the right locus—I just don't think he enjoyed the trip very much. He's bitching about the flash." 

"Aimes, Velasquez, Kim, you go with the major first. I'll follow with Dr. Zelenka."

"You know where you're going?" John couldn't help asking. He couldn't stand it if it all went to shit now, when he was so close.

"I saw where the doc put his sticky fingers."

John nodded and led the way in. Pressing the locus for the eastern tower, he closed his eyes. The flash was still pretty bright and it made his stomach lurch. He kind of got why McKay was complaining.

"Hey, Rodney," John said as he stepped out. "You need a Dramamine?" 

"Ha-ha. Very funny. Where's my…where's Radek?" 

"Right behind us." Sure enough, the others piled out in short order, looking less like marines and more like kids getting off an amusement park ride.

"This way," John said, leading them toward the control room. The pressure in his head was growing, as if Atlantis couldn't contain her excitement. Or maybe it was John's fault. He'd waited his whole life for a guide, for his missing piece. 

Now that the moment was here, though, John wasn't certain he could take the last step. He swiped his hand over the door crystal and Rodney rushed by him.

"Just let me get hooked up, first," Rodney said, dashing toward the chair. Radek gave John a sympathetic look and followed to help. The marines fanned out to reconnoiter the place while John edged forward. The chair called to him, but he resisted. He wasn't sure if it was fear or resentment that held him back. He'd been alone since Nancy left him. Maybe it was better this way.

Atlantis sent him a soothing wave, and then ten thousand years of longing crested over John's heart, making him bend over with a gasp.

"Major?" Private Kim came to check on him. 

"I'm fine," John said. "As you were."

Kim's doubtful look spoke volumes. John pushed past him and toward the chair. 

"You ready, McKay?"

"Just getting a baseline, Major. Almost there."

"Good. Good." John pressed two fingers into the stuff Beckett had termed "neurogel" on the chair in Antarctica, and there she was. 

[John. John.]

_It's you. Atlantis._

[John, please sit. Please. Now.]

John lifted his fingers. "How's it looking?" He sounded breathless to his own ears. 

"Radek?" 

"Power levels are adequate."

"I'm plugged in and good to go."

John tapped his radio. "Colonel Sumner, Dr. Weir—this is Sheppard. We're proceeding with the test. I'm sitting in the control chair now."

"Good luck, Major."

"Proceed, Sheppard." 

John supposed it was too much to ask for good wishes from Sumner. He took a deep breath and then sat down, the chair lighting up beneath him just like in Antarctica. 

But unlike Antarctica, in the next instant _She_ was there, and suddenly, effortlessly, his heart was whole, full and complete at last, where it had always been a jagged, unfinished thing pulsing out of tune. He could feel her all around him, sounding within him, beating true. Atlantis. Atlantis was with him, and he was no longer alone. Tears flooded his eyes.

_Atlantis. You're with me._

[We are together. I have been alone so long. So very long.]

 _Me, too._ He didn't need to say it. She already knew. How the headache he'd been carrying for most of his life was gone like it had never been. How alone he'd been, how much it had hurt, a deep grinding ache. _Atlantis._ She was so beautiful. So complex, ancient, funny, and smart, shining like a brilliant jewel. He dug his fingers into the gel, trying to get even closer. 

[John. My John. Little Jackie?]

John's heart trembled. 

_No one has called me that in a long time._

[John.]

 _I can't believe you're my guide. That you were here this whole time waiting for me._

John closed his eyes against the light that brightened all around him, embracing him. 

[I am here. I will always be here. Thank you for coming so far, my sentinel.]

John's chest ached with happiness. _What now?_

[Now…we can do anything.]

:::

"Attachment A is the list of planet designations that had viable ZPMs at the time the database was current," John said, handing the report to Sumner. "Attachment B is a list of planet designations of possible trading partners—agricultural societies. Again, the data is subject to age. There is one planet that is on both lists."

"Which one is that?" Sumner arched an eyebrow.

"The city is Athos, a planet protected by the Ancients before they departed. I included the address if we want to go there, sir."

"Seems like it should be our first stop, don't you think?"

"Well, not exactly," Rodney said, grinning. "If you'll see page two…"

Sumner frowned down at the paper. "A list of coordinates."

"Spatial coordinates, yes, sir." John suppressed a smirk; COs hated smartasses.

"Three satellites in what appear to be Lagrange points of orbit around P1N-469, P1T-542, and P21-977." Rodney was bouncing onto his toes now, his hands doing little orbits around each other. Radek looked on indulgently. 

"And their significance?" Weir obviously knew something was up, because she had an expectant smile on her face.

"Each satellite is a ZPM manufacturing station! The Ancients orbited satellites around uninhabited planets to reduce the risk in case the container fractured during the charging phase. And the security protocols—"

"I believe I am the one who deciphered this from the diagram the major provided," Radek cut in, and Rodney backed off with a huff.

"The security of the satellites is controlled by access via the airlocks. Only the gate ships can interface with the satellite airlocks. Any attempt to force entry will cause the satellites to self-destruct."

Sumner said, his voice filled with pleased surprise, "You found a way to get more ZPMs."

"Atlantis thinks there are already more waiting in at least two of the satellites," John said. "If they aren't viable, we can simply manufacture more." 

"And that's not all," Rodney said, rounding the table to show off his tablet to Sumner and Weir. "I'll have the screens hooked up by tomorrow, but I wanted you to see this."

"What am I looking at?"

"It's the specs for a gun. A really big gun," John said, jumping in. "Atlantis says it was up on one of the north towers before the shield gave out. We can rebuild it, though. And send the specs back to the SGC so they can add it to the _Prometheus_ along with a ZPM to power it."

Sumner stared at him. "That will completely change the war with the Ori. Carter has been working on a new rail gun for the past six months. We need to get this to them right away."

"Yes, sir."

"Well, don't just stand there, people."

Dr. Weir cleared her throat.

"Sorry, Dr. Weir." Sumner made an 'after you' gesture. Rodney snorted.

"Gentlemen, if you please, gather a small team to explore the nearest satellite."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Right on it, Elizabeth," Rodney said, pulling his tablet from Sumner's grasp. John admired his guts.

"Wait," Sumner said. "What about you and Atlantis, Sheppard?"

"We bonded, sir." John touched the connector patch below his right ear. "We can keep in communication at all times across subspace, even if I travel through the gate." Neither of them would ever be alone again.

"You're in communication with the city right now?"

"Yes, sir. The details of the usual arrangement between an Ancient city and her sentinel are on pages eight through eighteen of the report." John gestured. "I think you'll see I can accommodate both my duties in the Air Force and as Atlantis' sentinel. And the benefits of having Atlantis' support are, well…" John shrugged. "I think they've already proved themselves."

Sumner tapped the pages and said, "I guess we'll see." But he had a smile playing with the corner of his mouth, and John relaxed a tiny bit.

"I guess we will, sir. Permission to go fetch us some ZPMs?"

"Granted, Sheppard."

John turned smartly and left.

:::

Docking with the satellite off P1N-469 was almost an anti-climax. John expected it to be much harder, but with Atlantis humming directions every step of the way, he barely heard McKay's cries of victory as John asked the facility to pop open the tray of ZPMs. Five of them rested untouched in their charging tray just waiting for Rodney and Zelenka's eager fingers. The two scientists set them carefully into two foam-lined suitcases and carried them back into the puddlejumper, which John had insisted on rechristening the first time they popped the little craft through the watery-looking wormhole.

"Sam Carter is going to plotz," Rodney said, rubbing his hands together with glee as they decoupled and set back toward the space gate. 

"Yes, and I'm sure she will throw aside her embarrassing crush for the dashing Air Force general and the multi-doctorate twink to fall into your arms at long last," Radek said, sounding pissed as hell. "Never mind that you are already engaged."

"Oh, that's not—I didn't mean—that is to say, I would never…" Rodney wrung his hands together, almost knocking the suitcase of ZPMs off his lap. "Radek, you know I just have a friendly rivalry with—"

"Yes, yes, yes. Be careful or you will cause an explosive disaster in your lap."

"What?" John almost broke the grip off the jumper control.

"Oh, didn't we mention? The combined explosive force of five ZPMs would put us at around 377.6 gigatons, or approximately 258 times the total global nuclear arsenal presently on Earth."

John swallowed. "You're saying that's what we've got in those suitcases."

"Yes. That's why the foam, you see," Radek said blithely.

John flew very carefully through the gate back to Atlantis.

:::

John's stomach was in knots when they all gathered in front of the screen to dial Earth. 

[I am here.]

_Thanks. But I don't know if Sumner will tell them about you and me. And maybe they'll want to send me back because I'm compromised._

[I won't let them. We are together.]

"Dialing Earth." Rodney said. "Chevron one: encoded."

Dr. Weir gave him a sardonic look.

"Fine, ruin it," he said, and punched the rest of the keys rapidly before sending their IDC. "Establishing connection."

The screen fizzed to life, and General O'Neill stared at them quizzically. 

"I have to admit, I didn't anticipate seeing y'all again so soon," he said. "I would have baked a cake." 

"That won't be necessary, General," Dr. Weir said, all humor and grace. "In fact, we have a present or two for you instead."

"Oh, really?" O'Neill crossed his arms. "Color me intrigued."

"You might want to call Colonel Carter over for this one." Dr. Weir held up the open suitcase with the three spare ZPMs and the flash drive filled with design specifications. After much turbulent discussion, McKay and Zelenka had finally, begrudgingly accepted that three of the first ZPMs could go to Earth and two would remain on Atlantis to power her shields and long-range sensors.

"Are those what I think they are?"

"They are, sir," Carter said, charging in at O'Neill's elbow. "Are they viable? Are there more? Where did you find them?"

"Now, now, Carter. I'm sure we'll get a detailed report. Am I right?" O'Neill's eyes turned flinty, and John was grateful he wasn't on the front line. 

"Yes, sir. It's all in there," Sumner said. "I'd like to commend Major Sheppard for his work. He was primarily responsible for the acquisition of the ZPMs and the plans for the Ancient…" Sumner looked down at his notes, "…directed energy weapon we're sending ahead."

John's heart skipped in surprise. Carter visibly perked up, and O'Neill said, "Aw, you didn't tell me you got me ice cream to go with the cake. Well done, Sumner, Sheppard."

"Us, too," Rodney said, and Radek smacked him. John gave them both a grin, and Radek looked surprised for a moment before smiling back fondly. John ducked his head. 

"Thank you, Doctors," O'Neill said, nodding to McKay, Zelenka, and Weir. "Please send that suitcase through before Colonel Carter makes a spectacle of herself."

"On it," Weir said, handing the suitcase to Stackhouse, who jogged down the stairs and handed it off to a marine. A moment or two later, Carter had it in hand, which was seriously mind-bending. Intergalactic delivery in thirty seconds or less.

John's stomach twisted again. They could deliver him back to the SGC just as quick.

"So, any spoilers on how you guys accomplished all this in less than a week?" O'Neill stared down at the suitcase as Carter lifted out the specifications for the new gun.

Taking a deep breath, John stepped forward. "Sir, when we arrived, I discovered Atlantis is sentient, and also, she's my guide. She offered me the information we were looking for."

O'Neill blinked. "Atlantis is…your…guide."

"Affirmative."

"Huh. Well, congratulations, Sheppard. I guess I do owe you a cake."

John's mouth dropped.

"It's tradition, right?" O'Neill turned to Carter, who smiled.

"Sure is, Jack."

"Right. Bonding party, cake with candles, all that jazz. Make it happen, Elizabeth."

"I'll get right on it, General."

"I'll send some more champagne through, now that we have a ZPM and all."

"Thank you, sir," John said. 

[Thank you.]

"Atlantis says 'thanks,' too."

O'Neill smirked. "Well, you thank the lady for the really big gun."

Sumner snorted. 

"Consider it done, sir."

O'Neill clapped his hands together. "If that's all, I think Carter wants to spend some time with her babies, and we have a war to win."

"Good luck, Jack," Elizabeth said. "Let us know if you need anything."

"Oh, we will. O'Neill out."

The gate shut down and John stepped back feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. Dr. Weir grinned at him, and then Sumner clapped him on the shoulder, saying, "Good work, son."

"Sir." John couldn't help the slight tone of disbelief.

Sumner's eyes narrowed, and then he said, "With me," and strode out of the room. John hustled to keep up. It looked like he'd already fucked up.

[I'm listening.]

John immediately felt better. He stood and waited for Sumner to gather his thoughts.

"Look, Sheppard. As your commanding officer, I reviewed your jacket before we came on this mission…" Sumner rubbed the back of his neck, and John looked away. 

Nothing good ever came from the brass looking over his record. It didn't tell the whole story, not by half. 

Sumner went on, "But you and I both know not everything gets between the pages."

John jerked his head up, meeting Sumner's wry glance. 

"I think the last week or so has proven that out. So, let's just start from here. And with me apologizing for interfering with your bond. Because no one deserves that, no matter what. So, I'm sorry, John." Sumner offered his hand. "Tell Atlantis, I'm sorry, too, all right?"

"I…yeah, okay." John shook Sumner's hand.

[He's a good man.]

"She says 'thanks,'" John said, feeling his face heat.

"Good. That's good." Sumner shifted uncomfortably. "Does she need anything?"

[What is this 'cake'?]

John laughed, and the expression on Sumner's face when John tried to explain made him laugh even harder.

Life had definitely taken a turn for the better. 

_Thanks, Atlantis._

 

………………………..…  
March 31, 2019  
San Francisco, CA

**Author's Note:**

> The math of ZPM explosive yields: [The total energy of a single ZPM is approximately 876 TWh](https://scifi.stackexchange.com/questions/7081/how-powerful-is-a-zpm-zero-point-module). The [TNT conversion chart](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TNT_equivalent#Conversion_to_other_units) shows us 1 megaton=1.16 TWh, so 1 ZPM = 755 megatons of explosive force. 5 ZPMs = (755x5 megatons) or 377.6 gigatons of explosive force. The total Earth global nuclear arsenal is about 15,000 nuclear warheads with a destructive capacity of around 1460 megatons or only about 1.46 gigatons, so. Uhm. And it's all sitting in Rodney's lap. 
> 
> However, [scientists have estimated](https://www.sciencealert.com/watch-how-much-power-does-it-take-to-blow-up-a-planet) it would take about about 2.25 x 1032 joules, or 225 million trillion trillion joules to blow up the planet Earth. So we're not quite there yet.


End file.
